Empress_A

Today, I was reminded how lonely it is to hear your own silent scream for help.

Empress_A

You've been called too much. You've been deemed not enough. 
          You've even become a stranger to your own world and could only hope for the grace of others.
          You have rotten ever so painfully.
          You've become undesirable. 
          You've become unlovable.
          And all I did was to watch this unfold.
          I'm sorry, self.

Empress_A

To my alternate selves in other worlds, are you living a contented life? I hope at least one of you achieved your own dreams! Have fun with it for me and the others who couldn't. Because right now,  I could only take the path which was paved for me.

Empress_A

Behold, the lonely strums of the divine minstrel’s harp resonates with the already melancholic empty room; each note spells out regre(t).
          
          Melody so loud yet so hushed, rhythm so brisk yet so gentle; a perfect harmony for the ears of wandering passersby such as (I).
          
          Calling out to alike hearts, reaching for the shattered souls—even among the darkest corners of the citadel, it can linge(r).
          
          Tick, tock… The unfilled room began accommodating a living creature; or was it another of the current society’s massed-produced perfect dolls —? Oh, indeed, she’s a marionette(e)…
          
          The minstrel watches as the spectator listens; the celestial awfully familiar with those blank eyes camouflaged behind the wide beam; the tune goes on but the minstrel knows that the audience’s song has already ende(d).

Empress_A

Part One.
          
          In a capitalist city where success is determined by the fastest runner to reach the fortress of the elites, a little girl stands nervously at her starting line, anticipating for a resounding ‘bang’ that will allow her to start her run.
          
          The race has been going on for centuries, millennia even—but there she was, patiently waiting for her turn. 
          
          The children of her age, oh those wearing brand new rubber shoes, have already started years ago. In fact, they are halfway through their chosen path—the wide highway, whilst guided by their golden compasses.
          
          As for the little girl?
          
          She chose the dark, narrow alley. Wait—actually, they chose that path for her. The reason? They say that it’s the shortest—no GPS needed to navigate the straight road. They say that it’s the cheapest—no shoes needed to walk on the soft soil. They say that the only problem she will encounter is darkness—something to be fearless about, or so they say.
          
          But oh, they forgot to tell her the horrors brought by the moonlight’s reflection in that very passageway.

Empress_A

Part Two.
          
          ...
          
          ‘Bang!’
          
          Finally, her race began!
          
          As quickly as she could, she ran and ran.
          
          Sleepless. Restless. She gave up the recess of her journey. She knows that she’s very much behind her peers after all so she had to catch up. She must catch up.
          
          Just when exhaustion finally sets in, she sees a shadow at her peripheral vision—running as fast as her.
          
          Startled, her first instinct was to outrun the person tailing her—this is a race, after all.
          
          And so she tried… but to no avail.
          
          The silhouette persistently sticks near her. There are moments when the dark figure runs past her. There are moments when the shadow runs beside her. But never a moment when they had a huge gap. Even if she took detours, that person never left her. 
          
          This exasperating race went on for years…until she finally had enough of the other person’s teases.
          
          For the first time, she stops.
          
          And so does the silhouette.
          
          She gazes more carefully into the irksome darkness which has been following her all these time, familiarizing every distinct feature it has.
          
          By then, it finally dawns to her who that figure was…
          
          It was her. 
          
          It was her own shadow.
          
          Her own figure reflected by the bright moonlight.
          
          But just as when she realizes this fact, the shadow started moving on its own. This time, it runs away from her.
          
          As she was just about to follow that figure in her attempt to feed her curiosity, she abruptly halts.
          
          That moment, she finally realizes something—that she was back to her starting point.